


Warmth Where There is None

by ziraseal



Series: Mara's Influence [4]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Coldharbour (Elder Scrolls), Established Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:54:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29038953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziraseal/pseuds/ziraseal
Summary: I didn't know until I started this fic that they're canonically dating and not just a rare pair. If you talk to Walks-in-Ash at a certain point in Riften, she confirms that she's seeing Holgunn. I love that, I love them both so much.
Relationships: Holgunn/Walks-in-Ash
Series: Mara's Influence [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2095476
Kudos: 1





	Warmth Where There is None

Everything’s so… it almost feels as though she’s in Skyrim in the winter, here. Though she’s learned Skyrim to be a warm place full of love and challenges and song. This place… it misses all three. What Seducers consider to be love, she knows to be a trap. What Dremora consider to be challenges, she knows to be labyrinths of deceit and pain. What Molag Bal would call a song, she would call a scream.

Still, there is a moment of wonder. The Hollow City is no warmer than the rest of Tamriel, and the strange sun that shines down upon them does not dry her scales, but flowers grow here. And if there are flowers, there can be some whisper of Hist.

Supplies are brought in from portals, but some farmers and hunters also attempt to hunt and gather what flora and fauna have been sucked in by the Planemeld. So the food isn’t as awful as she was expecting. She hasn’t had to eat Clannfear yet, no matter how often that odd Soul Shriven knight offers.

Walks-in-Ash has no desire to live here, and it is most certainly not a home, but there is something inspiring about it all. Patrols of all walks of life don the old Imperial walls, cracked but still a brilliant white. Wood Elves wielding shadow magic and tamed lesser Daedra, and even on occasion a strange, sorrowful Reachman with vines growing from his torso. It feels like the cumulation of something. It all leads to this moment.

The Vestige is a kind soul, always taking time to gather the opinions of any and all. They’re terribly wise, with eyes that see more than they let on. Walks-In-Ash has seen eyes like that before, in the eyes of Generals leading armies against the Akaviri and Tree-Minders healing corrupted Hists. Even now, as thousands prepare to charge against a single Daedric Prince, she sees that wisdom once more, as each person is greeted and respected by this hero.

Naturally, the hero passes by Holgunn and Walks-in-Ash. She is a Dark Elf, though not a member of the Pact, and gives them kindness that is often “forgotten” by others of her race. Something about her reminds the Argonian of lava. On the surface, it seems slow and warm and easy enough to step around. This woman is danger waiting to be touched.

“These louts better be ready for the battle of their lives!” Holgunn laughs, gesturing at the rows of mages and fighters standing guard behind them, “Because they haven’t seen anything yet!”

The Vestige laughs and gives him a hearty handshake, afore wandering over to the prospective Vanos siblings.

Once they have a moment to themselves, though, Holgunn gently tugs on the leather strips adorning her armor.

“Are you sure you want to do this? It’s… well… it’s more than is expected of us. We’re the only members of the Alliance to come this far.”

Walks-in-Ash shakes her head, “I never served the Pact. I serve people. You know this.”

“I know… I’m just… a glorious battle is the duty of a Nord, but I feel as though my own duty is keeping you alive.”

Walks-in-Ash gestures to Galerion that they’ll need a moment and wanders over to the cliffside. Holgunn quietly follows her, ever the curious cat. Together they sit, their legs dangling over a bottomless pit. She knows they won’t fall, though, knows that physics are strange in these realms of Oblivion, and that rockslides and earthquakes have no place in worlds as unnatural as this. It’s wrong, really. She’s a Saxlheel of nature. It calls to her every waking moment on Tamriel. But here, among dead trees and scraps of withered grasses, there is no pulse. That beating heart she feels among all things living.

“The river has carried us here, though it feels as though we swim upstream, does it not?”

Holgunn glances behind him at the towering mountain fortress in the distance that hides Molag Bal himself, and nods.

“I suppose so. Perhaps the single current of a Daedric Prince is easier to deal with than the riptides and hurricanes and slaughterfish of mortal war.”

“Now you’re beginning to talk like me,” Walks-in-Ash chuckles.

“I know, I’m getting soft from all this time around a mage.”

In silence, they allow moments to pass. The army continues to gather as more climb the strange rock bridges that dot Coldharbour, past the Orchard of vampires that peacefully allow mortals to pass. Every race in Tamriel has been brought to this moment, and it gives Walks-in-Ash a sad realization that… this entire war is just a horrid myth to allow these awful Princes to befoul their beautiful world.

And yet, there will always be another war.

“I do want to run away,” she nods. “Allow another river to sweep me out into a new land. To be away from this place and its pestilence. But I cannot do that.”

Below them is nothing but white fog. She wonders, if they fall, would they merely fall forever? Is Coldharbour infinite or is it limited to this stretch of land that they’ve colonized in Meridia’s name? If only she could fly, she would see it all and record it with an ancient Nordic memory stone! She could have made a wonderful scholar, if she could spend a single minute sitting at a desk. But no… there was always too much excitement among the strange mushrooms and beasts of Stonefalls.

Holgunn kisses her.

It is strange. She is Argonian and he is Nord. For most, it will not make sense. They wouldn’t understand, the way she feels when he gently takes her clawed hand in his. How he enjoys bumping his nose against the horns on her face. She likes running a thumb over his battle scars and he loves the feeling of her scales. It is strange, but it is quiet and kind amidst a land that is rugged and cold.

“Well, we have a single solution, then,” Holgunn huffs. “We have to kill Molag Bal. Otherwise we cannot return home and buy that nice hunting cabin in Helgen that I’ve always wanted.”

“And we couldn’t have that,” Walks-in-Ash says, giving him a small scratch at the base of his neck.

“We couldn’t have that.”

She can’t help but feel elated at where the river has carried her.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know until I started this fic that they're canonically dating and not just a rare pair. If you talk to Walks-in-Ash at a certain point in Riften, she confirms that she's seeing Holgunn. I love that, I love them both so much.


End file.
